My first love

Yes, she was the first and it lasted for two years, until we moved and I lost her. Conciously I have used a picture of myself in the mirror of an mc to show the ambivalence I feel between belonging and freedom. Driving alone on a motorbike has always been my favorite dream, symbolising freedom. But also loneliness. Thats why I always chose love and a family car.

Happy summerholiday

I am not only happy, I am in love, probably for the first time in my life. The girls name is and was Trine. I have not seen her for 45 years. She may be plump and unhappy by now. I don't know. What I didn't know was how problematic my relation to women should be for the next 40 years or so. Would I have been happy with Trine. No one knows.

My brother and sister

I was not alone. My brother and sister was close and can be seen to hold my hand. I seem happy of course. But those two others? My sister looks uncomfortable as always. Did she not feel at home.

My grandmothers doorstep

On the 17. of may Bergen celebrated our nations day of freedom, still do. I sit on the doorstep of my grandmothers house, in the middle of Bergen, dressed in my best costume, even a nice hat. I seem happy as always. My grandmother (on fathers side) was the sweetest of persons and I enjoyed beeing in the center of a grand family.

A family portrait

I seem content, as a center, however small, in the foreground. Not so for my brother and sister to the right. I have the attention of my mother and my aunt. But what is my other aunt looking at, my father. What is that about. The place is a farm in Hardanger where I almost died from drowning in a well - later that summer? I was 2 when I almost ended my life. On this picture I seem about the same.

A jealous sister

She just seemed happy before I arrived. On the earlier pictures she shows a happy face. When she was almost four, I came along. After a while we found a way, but on this picture she does not seem happy. My mother concentrated on me, the child she was told she could never get, and a boy!!

The first bike

Its spring 1951 and I have just got my first bike, three wheels and all. I seem pretty happy and through my whole life bikes (with an engine) have been a symbol for freedom, untill I end in the ditch. My two older ones are a bit worried. I am the fate of this young guy.

I love coffee and my 5d

I always loved coffee. As a child I waited till the grownups had finnished. Then I collected all the remnants in one cup, poured some (a lot) cream in, added sugar, and drank. As an old man I can luckily brew my own, strong coffee, but I still add cream and sugar. And a cigarette or a newly litt pipe. Hav a nice day.

The little prince

I obviously enjoy my mothers lap, but am ready to go for some freedom. That was not easy. My father takes care of our little boat and pretends he is not there.

The boy with the cat

I am sitting on the floor in the flat I was born. The year is 1949. The cat is ours, but I have forgotten the name. The man I am talking to is my uncle, the guy I got my name Trygve from. He emigrated to USA sometime around 1930, but paid us several visits before he died some years ago. He lived north of Chicago, from were my interests for US gangsters grew.